


Fade Away

by thursdayschild



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Episode: s04e18 The End of Time (2), Even after 2000+ years Jack still cannot deal with his emotions, Funeral, Guilt, M/M, Post-Children of Earth (Season 3), Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 04:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thursdayschild/pseuds/thursdayschild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>After Ianto died, Jack wanted to nothing more than to run, but he had duties.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fade Away

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from the Muse song "Starlight," which I think works very well with both the end of Children of Earth and The End of Time.
> 
> There didn't seem to be a canon answer to whether Rhiannon or Ianto was older, so I just made it up. There also seems to be some debate as to when Children of Earth takes places, but according to the Doctor Who Wiki it's in September of 2009, so I went with that and just picked a day. If anyone knows for sure about either of these, please let me know and I'll fix it.

After Ianto died, Jack wanted to nothing more than to run, but he had duties.

“I’m so glad you came,” said Rhiannon, smiling in the strained way people smile when they’re trying not to cry.

“Least I could do,” Jack muttered.

He hadn’t gone to Steven’s funeral. He was almost certain that Alice would have quite literally murdered him if she’d seen his face. If he’d thought it would do any good, he would have let her, but it wouldn’t have lasted. It never did and it never would.

He found a seat that had a large buffer of empty chairs around it and hoped no one took one of them. He didn’t sit next to Gwen and Rhys. He couldn’t.

There were very few people in the small room. Johnny was sitting with David and Mica and there were a handful of neighbors, but no more than ten people sat on the thirty or so folding chairs. It was hardly the turnout a hero deserved. At the front of the room there was a screen showing a short, slow-paced slideshow of pictures of Ianto throughout his terribly brief life. There were a few from his early childhood and some from school and university. A couple seemed to be from before he worked for Torchwood One. None of them were from the last few years.

There was no coffin. The government had yet to release the bodies (apart from Jack, of course) of the people who had died in the Thames House, claiming that they might still be carrying the virus that had killed them. Instead, a small table stood below the screen baring a large arrangement of flowers and a framed photo of Ianto. Jack recognized it as the one from Ianto’s personnel file. Gwen must have sent it to Rhiannon. It had been taken the day he had officially joined Torchwood Three. He was perfectly dressed, as always, and smiling just enough that it looked like he actually wanted to be there. Leave it to Ianto to have a good personnel picture.

They sat in silence, no one even whispering to their neighbor. Rhiannon kept glancing at her watch and then up at the depressingly small group. A few minutes after Jack had arrived, Martha Jones and Mickey Smith came in, Martha looking somber, Mickey a little uncomfortable. Jack glanced up, but quickly looked away the moment he saw the new arrivals were people he knew. He heard Martha move towards him and then stop as he persisted in ignoring her. She and Mickey sat with Gwen and Rhys instead, though they both looked over their shoulders at Jack a few times. Jack couldn’t bring himself to meet their eyes, not after everything he’d done.

Once it was painfully clear that no one else was going to show up, Rhiannon went to the front of the room and addressed the tiny gathering.

“Thank you all for coming,” she began. Her voice was emotionless, almost as if she’d been programmed to speak the words, but Jack could tell she was just clamping down so hard on her grief that nothing could get through at all. “I thought maybe people would like to come up and say a few words.” She paused as if hoping someone would get to their feet and spare her, but no one did. “I guess I’ll start then.” She swallowed and glanced at the screen behind her; the picture was of herself and Ianto as children.

“Ianto was—.” She had to stop and take a deep breath. “Ianto was a very private person; he guarded himself carefully. I’m not sure any of us ever really knew him. But he cared. Ianto cared very deeply about those around him, no matter what it might have seemed like. He was always very diligent in everything he set himself to doing, ever since he was a little boy, and I’m sure that carried over into his work for— for the government.” She glanced at Jack and he nodded once to let her know that her word choice had been acceptable.

“I won’t stand here and tell stories of happier days. There were some, but not as many as there should have been, not as many as he deserved. Ianto had a hard life, harder than he really let anyone know. That was how he protected people – by shutting them out when he thought the truth would just hurt them.” She paused to steady herself. “I wish I’d had more time to tell him that it was alright. That everything was alright. But I didn’t. So wherever he is, I just hope he knows how much I love him.” She was starting to shake and her last words were nearly lost in the audible tightness in her throat. “My little brother.” Rhiannon couldn’t fight her tears any longer and Johnny quickly stood and led her back to her seat.

There was a pause in which no one got to their feet, but Gwen, realizing that no one was going to speak if she didn’t, rose and went to the front of the room.

“I worked with Ianto,” she told the little group. “Like Rhiannon said, he was very private, but we were on a team together and I think that meant something. Ianto was a good friend, a good person to have on your side when everything was falling apart. He was funny and clever, good in a crisis. Made a damn good cup of coffee.” Gwen paused, biting her lip for a moment before forcing herself on. “Ianto was very human, despite everything I know he hid. He did care. I wish he’d let us in more, let us helped him, but—. Well. I was just very lucky to have in my life,” she concluded after a moment. She looked up at the screen, nodded, and sat back down.

Again, no one stood to take her place. Jack saw Martha shift uncertainly, but she’d hardly known Ianto; she didn’t have anything to say. Rhiannon looked around, a little desperately. Her eyes fell on Jack and she silently begged him to prove that someone else had cared about her brother.

Jack closed his eyes for a moment, but got to his feet and went to stand at the front of the room. He owed Ianto this and so much more.

“I worked with Ianto too. Everything that’s been said about him today is the truth, but you can’t capture a person in a few sentences or even in a few thousand.” Jack licked his lips and sighed. He had been to so many funerals and seen even more people die, but that never made it any easier. “When things like this happen, everyone always says, “Oh, he was a good man” or, “She was a good woman.” Ianto Jones was a _good man_. And I mean that so deeply. He saved and touched so many lives, the lives of people who never even knew him, and he never wanted them to know him or even to thank him. He just did his job. And not because I told him too, but because he believed it was the right thing to do. Ianto was a good man, a light in this world that has been so painfully proven to be a dark place. And now that his light is gone, it’s up to each of us to live in a way that will make up for it, if only a little.” Jack turned and looked at the screen. There was one more thing he knew he should say, but he couldn’t, not in front of these people, so he just turned around again and took his seat.

“Um, Rhiannon?” said Gwen, half-rising.

“Yes?”

“I’ve got this recording. Ianto made it before—. Before he left, um, work for the last time. I haven’t listened to it so I don’t now what it is, but I thought maybe...?” She let her voice trail off.

Rhiannon nodded, clearly still too emotional to speak much.

Gwen got to her feet, went to the computer that the slideshow was playing on, and plugged in a flashdrive. A few moments later, Ianto Jones, tired, dirty, and injured, was looking out at them all. Gwen stayed by the laptop in case the video held Torchwood secrets and pressed play.

“Um, hello,” said Ianto a little uncertainly.

Jack felt his heart ache at the first sound of those perfect Welsh vowels.

“This is Ianto Jones. It’s the ninth of September 2009. I’m about to go out on a mission with Jack like I’ve done god knows how many times before, but since the world really does seem to be ending this time that I thought maybe I won’t end up coming back. So here I am. Recoding this. Just in case.” He paused for a moment. Bits of the warehouse could be seen behind him and he was poorly lit, but the screen of the computer recording his final message was bright enough that they could see his face plainly. “Lord, I don’t know what to say. Um. What do people say when they’re doing this?” He thought for a moment.

“Gwen,” he said at last. “You’re in the next room right now, about to send Rhys off with the laptop to save the world – or at least blackmail it.” He smiled. “Listen to me, you’ve got a chance; take it. I know Jack keeps telling you to, but seriously, Gwen, _live_. Even if you still work here after this is all over – if it ever is over, if we make it – you’ve got to live your life. You have a shot at something none of the rest of us do, so please, live. Live for Tosh and Owen, who lost everything to this damn place. Live for me; I’m never going to have a real life. Live for Jack because even if he’ll always be here, what he’s doing isn’t living. So please, Gwen, Rhys. Live.” He took a deep breath before moving on.

“Rhiannon. My beautiful sister. Thank you. Thank you for looking after me all those years when things were—,” he hesitated, “not good. Give my best to David and Mica and look after them. Look after Johnny too; he needs it. You’re the best sister anyone could ever ask for and I’m sorry I lied to you so much, but I had to keep you and the kids safe. You’re the only family I’ve got. I wish I was a better brother to you and if we all make it through this one, I promise I will be.” Again, he paused as if he wasn’t sure who else was important in his life.

“Tosh, Owen. I know you’re gone, but, well, good luck.”

Jack tensed. He knew what had to be coming next as Ianto hesitated once more.

“Jack,” he said and Jack felt his stomach drop a little bit farther. “Jack, what do I even say to you?” Apparently it was a hard question to answer because Ianto was silent for a long moment, smiling faintly to himself. “If I die,” he said at last, “you can’t—. You can’t blame yourself. I know that if this goes badly and you’re hearing this and I’m dead, you’ll be – or I guess you _were_ , from your point of view – with me in the end and that’s what matters. I trust you to be with me and that’s all I can ask for. Just don’t—.” Ianto’s voice caught in his throat for the first time. “Just don’t forget me, Jack. Please. Please, don’t forget me.” He swallowed and collected himself. “With any luck, I’ll be back here in a few hours to ease this file, but if I’m not just know that—. That I love you, Jack Harkness, whoever you are.”

In the background of the video, there was another voice, free from round Welsh vowels and burdened instead with flat American tones.

“Ianto? Let’s go!”

“Speak of the devil,” said Ianto, smiling. “I guess this is it then. I love you all and if we make it through this I hope that the lies will stop. I’ll see you later, then. Or not. Either way, good-bye.” He gave the camera a quick, pained smile and then reached out to turn it off. The screen went dark.

There was a long silence.

Jack could hear both Rhiannon and Gwen crying as well as a few others. He sat still and silent. _How could he have not told Ianto that he loved him?_

After the others had gone, Rhiannon grabbed Gwen and Jack before they could slip away.

“We haven’t gone through all of Ianto’s things yet,” she said, “but there were a few items that he wanted you to have, in his— his will.” She produced a thin laptop from her large bag and handed it to Gwen. “He said there were things on here that you should have. Probably to do with your, um, work.”

Gwen took the computer, frowning slightly.

“Why me? Why not Jack?” she asked.

“He’d written that he didn’t trust Jack not to run off.” She gave Jack a watery, apologetic smile that he did not feel he deserved. “He wanted you to have this, Jack.” She handed him a slightly battered photo. “It was in his personal affects that they sent us from the—.” She swallowed.

Jack nodded, understanding that the picture had been on Ianto’s person when he’d died, and took it.

He looked down at the photo and felt a visceral pain at the sight. The image was of Ianto and himself, both smiling. He had an arm flung around Ianto’s shoulders with a causal possessiveness and they were standing next to the invisible lift outside the Hub, afternoon sunlight making them both squint a little. They looked so genuinely happy, like they had total confidence that everything would be perfect forever. It was, as far as Jack was aware, the only picture of the two of them together and Ianto had died with it on his body; he’d cared that much.

“And this, though I can’t imagine why.” Rhiannon handed Jack a very familiar stopwatch.

Jack took it as well, smiling slightly.

“Thank you,” he said. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Actually,” she said, a little uncertainly. “Maybe.”

“Anything,” said Jack at once.

“Ianto wanted to—,” she hesitated as if remembering an exact wording, “go to the stars.”  She looked up at Jack. “Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

She smiled faintly.

“When they let us have his—.” She couldn’t say it, couldn’t think of her little brother as just a body.

“There are some things I have to do before I go away from—.” He stopped himself before he said “Earth.” “Before I leave. Give me,” he thought for a moment, “six months and I’ll be back.”

“Alright,” she agreed.

“I’ll see you both then.” He nodded to Rhiannon and Gwen and left.

***

The door opened and a bored looking child stared up at Jack.

“Mum!” called the boy, turning back into the house. “It’s that man in the coat!”

A minute later, Rhiannon appeared at the door.

“Oh. Hello, Jack. You came.”

“Of course.”

“Come in.” She stepped aside and he entered the small house. “I’ll just go and fetch it. Him.” She gave Jack a confused, upset look for a moment and then disappeared upstairs.

Jack waited in the hall, not wanting to go any further into the house. Even from where he stood, however, he could see a collection of framed photos on the wall. He picked out Ianto’s face at once and looked away. A few minutes later, Rhiannon returned, holding an urn.

“Can you really take him to the stars?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She nodded.

“Thank you.”

Jack smiled tightly for a moment, but he couldn’t maintain it.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save him,” he said after a long moment.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she replied.

“It was,” said Jack at once. “He didn’t need to be there. He should have stayed behind. My stupidity, _my_ arrogant plan, got him killed.” The bitterness in Jack’s voice was tangible.

“He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself. He said so.” Rhiannon gently touched Jack’s arm for a moment, but when he didn’t react she pulled her hand back. “Did he say anything?” she asked quietly. “You were with him, weren’t you?”

“I was.”

“What did he say?”

“There wasn’t a lot of time,” said Jack, feeling horribly guilty that Ianto had wasted his last breaths on him and not his family.

“I know.”

He was silent for a long moment.

“He said something I never deserved to hear – especially not from him,” Jack said quietly.

“He said he loved you.”

Jack nodded.

Rhiannon handed the urn to him.

“Take care, Jack.”

“And you.”

“Good-bye.”

Jack just nodded again, knowing the good-bye was for her brother, not for him.

***

_His name is Alonso._

Jack’s head whipped up and he was in time to see the Doctor nod to him and start to walk away. In a moment, he was on his feet and running after him. The Doctor had a foot inside the TARDIS before Jack called out to him.

“Doctor! I need your help.”

The Doctor paused, but didn’t turn.

“I don’t have time, Jack. I’m dying.”

“I know.” Why else would he here, looking for Jack but not speaking to him? “But this isn’t for me. Please.”

The Doctor turned slowly at the desperation in Jack’s voice.

Captain Jack Harkness was a changed man since the Doctor had seen him last. He looked the same, of course, but the Doctor could see the losses he had suffered, the wounds to his soul showing in his blue eyes that were so much older than the rest of him seemed. It was a look the Doctor knew well from mirrors. He was clutching an urn to his chest like it was the whole of creation and if one scratch befell it then life as they knew it would end.

“What is it?” asked the Doctor.

“One trip. Just take me to the stars,” he said, a little breathless with suppressed emotion.

“She doesn’t like you,” the Doctor said, touching the side of the TARDIS.

“I know. But it won’t take long. Just take me somewhere with stars. Anywhere. I made a promise.”

The Doctor looked at Jack for a moment and then nodded, understanding and accepting.

Once inside, he set about piloting the TARDIS. Jack didn’t ask where they were going. He just stood in silence, watching the Doctor work. He had been desperately in love with the man – Time Lord – once, but now he wasn’t sure he’d ever be in love again. He had lost lovers before, yes, but Ianto had been _different_ , he’d always been different.

For as long as he could remember Jack fallen in love at the drop of a hat; it was part of who he was, but there had been something about Ianto, something that made him stand out from the others. Jack couldn’t explain it, not even to himself. But he’d lost the person he was sure had been the most perfect lover he’d ever know and he had lost his daughter and he had killed his grandson and he just wanted to run and run and run until he finally found a way to die.

“I’m sorry you lost him,” said the Doctor quietly. He recognized the pain in Jack’s eyes, the desperate need to run held in every tense line of his body.

“He’d just turned twenty-six,” Jack said. “I don’t even remember being twenty-six.”

The Doctor was silent. He remembered being twenty-six so many lifetimes ago, but, for all his knowledge, he was younger than Jack now and suddenly felt it. He knew Jack’s pain all too well. He’d held his daughter while she’d died. He’d left so many people behind. He would never see Rose again. He knew there was nothing to be said. But at the same time, Rose was alive, his daughter had made a choice. And he was Time Lord, made to live hundreds and hundreds of years, to see hundreds and hundreds of lives come and go. Despite everything that had happened to him, Jack was still only human, his mind not meant to hold so many memories, his heart not built for so much pain. It wasn’t fair or right and the Doctor hated that there was nothing he could do about it.

“Here we are,” he said at last. The Doctor left the controls and went to the doors. “I’ve extended the oxygen field,” he explained before he opened them to reveal a stunning sight. “The Horsehead Nebula, one of the most beautiful things in the universe. Roughly 1,500 light years from Earth. The homeworld of the Ood is out there.” He turned to Jack. “Is this alright?”

Jack nodded.

“It’s beautiful. He’d love it.”

“Shall I—?” The Doctor gestured vaguely away to ask if he should leave Jack alone.

“It’s alright.”

Jack stepped towards the door and the Doctor moved away, giving him some room. Jack pulled the lid from the urn and poured the ashes – Ianto’s ashes – out into space.

“Welcome to the stars,” he said quietly, watching the grey powder float in front of him. “I know this is too late, but—.” Jack bit his lip. It hardly seemed to matter now, still he had to say it; maybe if he did he’d somehow be able to let go, to move on. He doubted it. “I love you, Ianto Jones.”

He turned and nodded to the Doctor, who had returned to the controls. He pressed a few buttons and the oxygen field snapped back the door. For a moment, Jack watched the ashes fade away into space and then he closed the doors.

“Where can I drop you off?” the Doctor asked.

“Anywhere.”


End file.
